


remix

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bill and Ted remix, Enchanted remix, F/M, Pulp Fiction remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: Remixes - jon x Sansa imagined as Ted and Bill, Vincent and Mia, and Robert and Giselle.





	1. Agape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L-O-V-E

It was absurd how OK she was waking up dazed and confused in some strange bed with muscular arms holding her. There were so many holes in her memory - normally she would be freaked out. But after all the drama with Joffrey and his crowd, she welcomed her new viewpoint with everything so big and shiny, buoyant and slow motion, and so full of hope and light. Especially when the strong arms holding her were the arms of her Jon, the one person who truly understood her and who she trusted implicitly.

It was not always that way. He was her brother's best friend until he made the acquaintance of Mary Jane so to speak which was roughly the time she started going out with Joffrey. With their mum pressuring him, straight arrow Robb disgustedly dropped him like a dirty shoe, calling him a stone head loser. And she was one of the popular girls, running with a clique that included bitchy Margaery and dicky Joffrey but excluded stoners like Jon. 

But that changed when she ran behind the bleachers to cry where he was smoking. Since that day, she would call him nightly as she whispered her fears. He would always listen and his word of understanding ("Dude") and his even breathing strangely enough made her feel better. He never told her what to do or made her feel stupid. 

And it was Jon who saved her from the prom nightmare (with Joffrey trying to force her) and took her to his place that he goofily called his maxi pad (gentle snort). That night, they took turns smoking and drinking and laughing and hugging and confessing that they loved each other Dude. In his slightly dazed eyes, there was no judgement - she didn't have to be perfect, getting straight A's, looking perfect - right hair, right make up, right outfit, and most importantly the right accessories. He liked her even with her bed head and no makeup. She could just be herself and that was EXCELLENT!

As they wiped off her prom makeup she didn't remember exactly when, he put some serious eyeliner on to make her laugh and ooh and ahh on how fierce he looked. He actually looked good, so she proceeded to paint his pouty lips with the lipstick still on her red lips. It just felt right and even better when there were no unwanted grabby and groping hands. In the far reaches of her fuzzy mind, she knew it may be wrong but as he smiled dazedly at her, it just felt right kissing him, so much better than anything else except for possibly some lemoncakes (as she was so hungry). After kissing until she needed some air, she proclaimed with a giggle and a delicate snort that they must eat!!! 

"EXCELLENT!" Jon agreed.

With nothing in his fridge (not even mayo), as they apparently raided it some time back, they went out with him wearing her grecian goddess prom dress (she was originally so excited by her authentic recreation of ionic chiton made by one large square piece of ivory silk cloth and a few strategically placed clips) and her wearing one of his many black Ts as a tunic dress that she belted with his studded belt and his flip flops. Laughing and holding each other up, they tripped over to the 24-hour 7-Eleven (which was so weird because seven to eleven wasn’t twenty-four hours but she just went with it) as neither were sure of the time - was it really early morn or really late night? 

Jon and Sansa both spotted an old fashioned red phone booth, like the ones they probably had in jolly ole England, which wasn't there before. They immediately went into a red phone booth with Jon pretending to make call but confused with how to work the rotary dial and Sansa pretending to pick up using her hand as the imaginary handset. 

They laughed with them each singing lyrics from Lionel Ritchie's "Hello."

"Hello!" he sang as he held the phone, "Is it me you're looking for?"

She responded sweetly to her hand, "I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in your smile. You're all I've ever wanted."

He jumped in and sang soulfully, "And my arms are open wide 'cause you know just what to say. And you know just what to do. And I want to tell you so much...."

That was when the booth shook suddenly and violently. Jon immediately grabbed her and tried to shield her head and tiny body with his. 

When everything stopped rattling, including his teeth, he looked around and didn't know where he was. Sansa twisted her head from under his arms and exclaimed, "Dude, where are we? This is some trip." Around them were many white columns and tall walls of an imposing building.

Smiling at how cute she sounded with her perfect enunciation, he gave her a quick peck on the top of her head. "Dunno... but we need to get out and get some food. Stay behind me, Sans. You will be OK."

She nodded with so much trust in her blue eyes. He would keep her safe.

Jon opened the telephone door and both squeezed out. They heard sounds and voices and walked towards them with him leading and holding her tiny hand. What they saw behind the door shocked them. There were many bearded men who were dressed in the same outfit as Jon but in linen rather than summer weight silk.

The oldest man in the center of men saw them and motioned them towards him. Sansa gracefully walked towards him while lightly holding Jon's arm. 

The white haired man stared at the two - Jon with his curly black hair fringing his face, light facial hair, pouty lips, and with the silk draping over his muscled body and Sansa with her flowing red tresses, dewy pale skin, full lips, curvaceous body and her bare long shapely legs. He stared at them and sighed, "Auto to kalon." The rest of men rumbled in agreement as he held Sansa's other hand and presented them around so all the men in the large circle could view them. "Auto to kalon!!" the men all shouted.

Jon looked questioningly at Sansa, who whispered, "They are chanting love beauty itself, the highest form of Socratic love according to Plato's Symposium."

"Dude, you know everything, Sans, like Yoda but much cuter." He blushed as he never before complimented Sans on how hot she was because she was more than just looks, even though it was what most focused on. There were so many moments of her kindness since childhood that he, a welfare kid from a broken home, never forgot. Even when she hung with the cool kids, she stayed so sweet. She always had a smile for everyone. That was why he loved her.

"Not everything, Jon, you are much smarter than me. You wouldn't do even half the stupid things I did." Sansa's eyes began to tear and he hugged her, stroking her hair as the men murmured, "Storgē," while others said, "Philía." 

"Oikos," some muttered while the others noisily disagreed.

Like he did the night before, he began to kiss her hair; and she began to nuzzle him and gently suck on his jaw and neck as the crowd started to chant, "Éros." They got excited as his hands on her upper back moved down to clasp her tiny waist but quieted when he gently pushed himself from her. 

Her blue eyes fluttered open and she reached out to him. Jon grasped her wrist and drew her tiny wrist towards his mouth kissing the inside of her wrist as she just glowed. He smiled his rare sweet smile, the one he only gave to her, as she reached up to kiss him. The crowd cheered with many yelling excitedly, "Agápe! Agápe!"

Then everything else became a blur. She didn't remember how they got back to his bed (did they get back into the booth?) nor (peeking under the blankets) exactly why Jon was no longer wearing the chiton while she was still fully dressed. But what she remembered is how right she felt in his arms and that she never wanted for him to let go of her.

Jon's chocolaty brown eyes opened, and he smiled with his adorable crinkly eyes. Touching softly her check, he asked, "Was it all a dream? The men in togas saying all those weird words - airhose, stooge, Philly, agave and something about yoghurt????"

"If it were, I had the same dream. Those men, I believe they were ancient Greeks with the white one in the center being the great philosopher Socrates; and they were talking about the four forms of love - agápe (selfless and unconditional love), éros (lust), philía (platonic love), and storgē (familial love) - as we demonstrated them."

She smiled at him, remembering vividly his sweet lips on the inside of her wrist. He smiled widely back and held her tiny hand in his big hand.

"Sans, I don't know anything about what they said - I just know what I feel. I love you always and forever."

She mirrored his actions before, pulling his wrist towards her and kissed the inside of his wrist as she looked into his eyes.

"And I love you." She giggled as his mouth was agape in shock. He quickly recovered and muffled her mirth with sweet little kisses.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you ever go home again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song inspired me - the rawness of emotions, the power in her voice... so good!
> 
> <https://youtu.be/BtCLP3-5MP0>

Laughing as she found her last stash of coke, she wondered why she even bothered to hide it. With her husband Petyr being the big boss and the one who hooked her up in the first place, she had an endless supply no questions asked. But instead of skimming from the inventory so to speak and be more beholden to him, she bought her own with, of course, his cash, blood money her late da would call it. Petyr knew; and she knew that he knew. And that was the point of her act of defiance - that even though he was the big boss, he was not a boss of her.

She snorted the two lines she neatly cut, as neat as the stitches she sewed when she was younger. Every time it seems she felt less and less of the hit but still she needed it. At first, it was like a large tidal wave of just pure sweetness, like all of the lemoncakes iced with squiggles of both cream cheese frosting and lemon curd and lightly sprinkled with powdered sugar. Now it felt like the gentle tide coming in, lapping at her feet - more like the lightly glazed lemon poppy bread her mum used to bake for. Still yummy but just not as.

Thinking of her mum was bittersweet. She loved her much but knew how disappointed her mum would be in her - of the choices she made and, more so, the reasons why. If she looked back, she would be lost.

She knew Petyr wanted her - in fact, he was obsessed about her. He was her biggest fan and had memorized all of her lines, complete with her inflections and mannerisms. When they were together, everyone, even those damn studio bosses who kept asking her to mind her weight, would bend over backwards to make them happy. Although she knew that it wasn't because of her but more so a fear of him, she also knew it was she who had the power. He would do anything for her and did - wiping out the Lannisters who destroyed her family. There were tons of beautiful girls but it was and always would be her, now that her mum was gone. The question then as it was now - was that enough?

But now he was out on another trip that was better she knew little to nothing about and that was fine with her. And Petyr, knowing that she would be bored and dangerous when she was thinking too much, arranged for one of his men to escort her for the night. It would be fun trying to yank that poor man's chain although she knew that there were limits because of the fool Theon. No foot massages!

Humming 'Fool for You' as Alice Smith passionately belted the lyrics, she put on her cat eyes and red pout. The contrast between her fierce makeup against her bare white skin was mirrored in her black and white outfit. A fitted slightly long white jacket over a short black fitted pants. Her parents would, in principle, have approved as nothing truly was showing, not even her collar bones, that Petyr loved to mark with his sharp little teeth and that he marked before he left. But she knew she still looked fuckable.

Sansa looked at her black Louise Brooks wig on its tiny little stand and shook her head with its long red locks. She did not want to pretend anymore - she wanted to feel again.

Buzz. Buzz.

That must be her date for the night. Looking at him at the security monitors, she smiled. He looked sharp, in a fitted black suit and his hair pulled back into a neat pony tail (no man bun, thankfully). Pressing the intercom button, she said, "Jon, please get yourself a drink. I will be down. It will be the hour of the wolf soon." She smiled as Jon was turning around looking for the location of her voice. "I am speaking through the intercom."

As he went back to the wet bar to get his drink and was savoring it, she quietly came down and pulled the needle off of the record.

Once the music stopped, he just stared stupidly at her. She was simply beautiful. He had seen plenty of pretty women before, many underneath him and others atop him. But there was a lightness in her, that even her jaded eyes could not suppress or her geisha-like makeup couldn’t hide. Her quick smile greeting him seemed authentic, free from the artifice and games most play, like the open smiles from the girls he met in the North. Then just as quickly, he saw her transform back to her wife of big boss persona, coolly and graciously welcoming him and telling him what is what.

There was a change in plans - they were not going to the restaurant that Petyr made a reservation for but instead her favorite spot. She made him disengage the GPS (so they could not be traced) and swear under all the gods, old and new, never to divulge where they went.

As Jon drove her to the Scottish gastropub, he could feel her cat eyes on him as he also glimpsed back at her as her eyes darted away. They both giggled when his eyes caught hers. Hearing her rare laugh, he so wanted to the man who could make her laugh again.

As they entered the Hair o' the Dog, the scarred bartender yelled out over the thumping beat of "Brick House", "No Betty Page tonight?"

"It is Louise Brooks, the silent film actress, and Betty Page is a pin up girl," she primly corrected him with a dimpled smile and a twinkle in her eye.

"And???" the bartender rumbled, smirking. "Red, the same, yeah?"

Sansa nodded, trilled her thanks, and headed to her booth with Jon trailing behind her, eying her tight ass but trying to be discrete while doing so.

Drinks were promptly placed in front of them - a giant strawberry milkshakes with whipped cream and two straws and a two glasses of water. The giant man cupped gently her cheek; and she leaned into his hand. Jon could tell that she and the bartender were tight. He wondered if Petyr knew and wondered about the scar ('Was that because Petyr knew?').

She introduced the two, "Clegane, Sandor Clegane, he owns this fine, more than fine in fact, establishment. And this is Jon." Jon nodded politely. Sandor glared, his scars stretched grotesquely, until her tiny hands touched his broad chest and she whispered something in his ear. He growled in protest but walked away.

"He is just very protective of me, even after Petyr, and maybe especially after Petyr," she said, shrugging.

While waiting for the food, they leaned in together and talked about her acting and the last TV show she was on. He never saw movies nor watched TV because of the work he does - the crazy hours, the "variable" work locations, etc. - and mainly because of his love for reading (it took him away from it all). But he found himself so involved in her recounting of one of her shows, an action show about a gang of tough girls, wondering why she even left as her eyes lit up as she talked about her flashy costumes and her fight scenes (no stunt double she proudly exclaimed).

He blurted, "Why?"

She blinked slowly. At first, he thought he was being an idiot again, that stupid Northern boy who had to be taught by a bossy young girl how to talk to girls and how to dance. "Um, I mean, ugh, why did you leave acting? It seems so ...."

She smiled and quietly said, "I know what you meant. I was just surprise that you would ask. No one really asks anymore. Acting is like making sausages, better not seeing how it is done. Actually, even worse, this profession, acting. It takes such a toll. After awhile you no longer feel anything anymore when you got into acting because you felt so much. For women, it is horrible. Even Emma Thompson - she is a wonderful, beautiful thespian, not lesbian [seeing his confusion], an actress - was told that she looked too old and that is by Ang Lee, this acclaimed director - and she probably was told much worse by many others."

"But you, you are perfect!" Jon exclaimed.

Smiling ruefully, she confessed, "Right before I left, the producers talked to me about my love for sweets. They said the camera added twenty pounds and that I was getting so porcine, you know, fat that they had to develop a pregnancy story to explain my bloated look. They told me that I need to drastically lose weight for the miscarriage plot line they had in the works. That was the last straw!"

Before he could respond incredulously, a giant platter of Porterhouse steak landed heavily on their table along with a large skillet of roasted potatoes and garlic cloves.

"Do you mind if we share?" she asked, handing him his steak knife and fork.

They dug in with her cutting small bloody pieces to daintily place in her mouth and him dousing his large pieces of well marbled meat with ketchup and A-1 sauce. It reminded him of home, actually his best friend's house where the large family just attacked the food sharing plates and even cups, even Robb's prissy younger sister shared his knife and ate from his fork.

They both closed their eyes, sighed with pleasure and smiled. After eating her fill (a few bites as she was saving room for dessert), she finally looked over at him and disgustedly confiscated the A-1 bottle from him. "Hell no! You need to taste it first without this... thing."

She cut him a small piece and was going to place in his mouth when he gently brought the fork to her mouth. In surprise, she took a bite and he surprised them both by taking it from her warm mouth, with his tongue flicking hers lightly.

"You are right. It tastes better this way."

He knew he was a dead man walking - who knew if anyone saw them and was going to tattle to Petyr, his boss and her very jealous husband. But breathing her in, her light floral scent, and tasting her, he couldn't think of anything but her and being with her. He leaned for a kiss, one without a piece of steak but still with tongue, lots of tongue he hoped.

She pushed him away. Shaking her head and pretending to be choking, she whispered, "Don't do this - I am not worth this. Petyr will kill you."

As if on cue, the lights went off; and Jon automatically grabbed his piece. Then the lights slowly got brighter with an announcer proudly proclaimed the start of the premier dance contest. He put his gun back on his ankle holster.

Smiling brightly, she grabbed his hands and dragged him reluctantly to the dance floor where the other couples were busy grinding against each other to the thumping bass line. Instead, she proceeded to lead him to the first steps of a lindy hop and he quickly took over, spinning her and throwing her about. Both kicked their legs out and clapped in rhythm to "Icky Thump" and did silly poses, laughing as they did. He felt so free and so clean as if she purified him, washing everything he done away. She just glowed, and her smile finally reached her pretty blue eyes. They danced the night away.

As Adele's "Love Song" played in the background, he held her close, with her arms holding him tight. His face was buried against the back of her neck. He felt her singing along "Whenever I'm alone with you. You make me feel like I am home again. Whenever I'm alone with you. You make me feel like I am whole again."

He felt the same.

When he held Sansa, he remembered the North and remembered all the values he held true before. If she would let him and would have him, he would take her away - no one could find them up in the frozen tundra of the North.

At the end, she begged him to take her back even though they both wanted to run away, away from this life. With their trophy in the back seat, he drove her back.

Crying, she realized that she was just as trapped as she was before - the only difference is that she chose her cage. She knew what she was getting herself into but decided that she was willing to pay any price to avenge her family. Petyr did not truly love her - he loved her mother and saw her mother every time they fucked and even grunted her mum's nickname when he came. And the worst is that she never loved him, the most positive feeling she had was a begrudging feeling of gratefulness but that was more than offset with disgust in him and herself and so much shame.

And next to her was a man, not perfect but a better man, who made her feel like herself again, a young happy Northern girl. His promises to take her home were so tempting but nothing good can come to bad girls like herself, as her septa has told her many times before. It was too late for her but maybe not for him.

He parked the car next to her house, her prison. He cupped her face, kissed her and murmured in her mouth, "Please. I can take you home. I can be your home."

She shook her head and he put on her shaking shoulders his jacket. Jon whispered that the inside pocket had his card and to call him. He would get her no matter where she was, no questions asked.

Closing the door was the hardest thing she had to ever do, even harder than the nights she spent with Petyr. She smelled his jacket, breathing in his scent of clean pine and something so earthy, something so reminiscent of home. Closing her eyes, she felt through the pockets and found a small bag of white power.

'Oh, Jon, not you too.'

Looking at the clear bag, she saw that it did not have the tell-tale crystals of cocaine. She stuck her little pinky in and licked it, tasting the slight bitterness of pure heroin and no numbness of cocaine. She knew that it could all be over soon - this emptiness inside her. Just one snort.

'I could be brave.'

After a few beats of her heart, she just let the bag drop on the floor, spilling the powder on the marble floor. She searched through the jacket pockets for his card and called him with trembling fingers.

"Please, Jon."

"I am still here, in front of your door."

“I want to go home.”


	3. That is how you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling trapped, Sansa escapes into her favorite movie. Will her prince rescue her or would a knight save her instead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the alternative title was hot mess, and it was. such a painful write.

It was strange how a princess from the magical land of Andalasia felt so alive in this world, this world where the people do not believe in magic as they scurried like little mice, but not like the magical mice in her homeland who were known to sing and make merry, throughout their days.

At first, she felt displaced among these strange people, these Manhattanites dressed mainly in blacks and greys. She stuck out with bright pink ball gown, with billowing tulle.

Sansa could not understand why they seem so angry and unhappy. But Arya, Jon's little sister, helpfully informed her that many just have resting bitch faces, and others presented an angry face to ward off bad people. But she worried that the mean faces also thwarted them from making new friends and finding true love. That made Arya, the seemingly fierce little girl, bark with laughter, howling that there is no such thing. People just hook up and then they don't. And sometimes they marry and then they divorce, just like what happened to her brother Jon and his former wife Ygritte who called him stupid and tried to dominate him. Arya conspiratorially whispered that she feared that Melisandre, Jon's new lover, would do the same thing although she used much crasser words than that ('Jon is so whipped by that red bitch!').

Yet while Arya projected aloofness and toughness, Sansa soon realized that Jon's little sister truly had a soft heart and was a true romantic. She tried to hide it with her boyish looking clothes and tough demeanor. But Sansa knew from the way she teased Gendry, her crush and the grocery delivery boy, to her watching over and over the certain scenes of her favorite movie.

At first, Sansa thought that the TV was a magical mirror but Arya assured her that it was not - something about digital video camera, something about pixels, but she was not entirely convinced. It seemed that the moving pictures reflected some aspect of the viewer. At least it did with Arya. Sansa was actually sickened watching Pulp Fiction - there seemed to be such senseless violence and brutality and madness just like the Queen of Hearts she left behind. But then she noticed that Arya fast forwarded many of the scenes and only watched certain scenes. Sansa knew that Arya saw the moments of tenderness, compassion, and love in all of its forms in those scenes. When Mia danced with Vincent, it wasn't merely to win the dance competition, but an almost exuberant expression of love, love with abandon, of taking and giving all you got as Vincent almost dug a hole to China with his tight hip swivels and Mia shaking her short bobbed hair with such attitude and abandon. Or when Butch and Fabienne waxed poetic about pot bellies, they were talking about their futures together and their babe or babes to be. The song in Butch's opening scene, Let's Stay Together, highlights his love for Fabienne and wanting so much to make a better life for her that he would do anything, sell his soul, take a fall in the ring.

There was something so raw and emotionally powerful about these scenes and their accompanying songs. The music almost destroyed her. There was so much emotion - they touched her soul and sometimes broke her into many tiny brittle shards.

Neither Vincent nor Butch was a charming prince or a gallant knight by any scale or rubric. They were flawed and complex but that did not mean that their love was not true. In fact, she felt it was truer than the "true loves" in her land. The people here in Manhattan and in the moving pictures were not destined to meet but somehow they made contact, formed a connection no matter how tenuous which then grew by fits and starts. Sometimes it worked out and when it does, that was magic, more fantastical and more wondrous than the magic in her world because it was hard won, sweaty, dirty love! And she had to admit to herself that was what she wanted.

And Arya wanted love too, a different kind of love. While her older and only surviving brother, Jon, loved his sister, who he took in when the rest of their family died in a plane crash many years ago, he was often too busy to spend much time with her. Instead, movies and music occupied her time when she was home. She was lonely and frankly wanted a doting female figure in her life again. And that was why she clung to Sansa - Sansa reminded Arya of her auburn haired mother who would sing her songs like the ones Sansa sung to her at night - songs of bravery, chivalry and kindness.

She thought of Jon, who reluctantly but kindly took her in, a complete stranger. And he tried to be understanding to her plight even though she knew that he did not believe a word she said. He thought she was touched, like one of the faeries in her world. He was a cynic - everything had to be proven true by reputable sources before he would accept that it could be true. He completely lost his faith and lost himself the year most of his family died and Ygritte left him.

Arya told him that he used tease her and play tricks on her when they grew up - he was her favorite brother. And Sansa shook her head, in disbelief that this grim, pouting and brooding man could ever crack a small smile. There was such hardness in him, almost a sharpness in his eyes and even suspicion like he expected the rug to be dragged from under him. He never quite let himself go, not even with his fiery fiancé. It was strange how euphoric she was when he smiled watching Arya nestled against her body, both wrapped in soft blankets like giant burritos as they watched one of Arya's movies.

While Sansa thought Melisandre seemed at first domineering and judgmental, talking about what the God of Light wanted while Arya rolled her pretty eyes, she thought that she saw glimpses of her vulnerability like the insecurity she saw in Arya, wanting to seem indifferent but actually so sensitive and insecure. When she heard more of Melisandre's background, a poor immigrant that overcame such high odds to become a high stakes corporate lawyer, Sansa was impressed by her commitment and her zeal. She saw that there was such a visceral physical connection between Jon and Melisandre. It was if he was on fire - the way his eyes seemed to burning, his hands itching to touch her. And she obviously stoked his flames and enjoyed him. Yet Sansa knew from the stories Arya told and the shows and movies they watched, such hot affairs, if nothing more, often ended horribly. And she understood Arya's concern that Jon would be hurt again.

Perhaps Sansa was brought to this world to help Jon and Arya get to their happily ever after endings - that Melisandre could be a wife who treats Jon as an equal and could be a sister-in-law, a role model and a mother figure for Arya with some guidance from Sansa. But Sansa shook her head - 'life is not a song' here, and what worked in her world, such as love at first sight, may not work here. In this world, life was a hot mess as Arya would say.

She remembered ruefully her exchange with Arya regarding the power of true love's kiss in her world. It was funny and also embarrassing the incredulity on Arya's elfin face. Why does the princess need to be saved? Why can't she save herself? The questions Arya asked made her rethink everything she grew up with. Sansa began to wonder why the princess ever had to wake up. Maybe she was tired. Also, why did she have to marry a prince to live happily ever after? Maybe she was in love with a princess. Maybe she was happy being by herself.

In her world, she felt such expectations to behave and act in a certain way - to act in a manner befitting of a lady and not a wildling, to gently giggle when she wanted to snort and belly laugh, to always be courteous when she rather not to certain unpleasant persons like the mad hatter Joffrey or the Cheshire Cat, Petyr. Here, no one knew she was a princess other than Arya. She had the freedom to do what she wanted, even if it ultimately was to be a kind, song loving gentle soul she was in her world. What mattered was that she had a choice - she was no longer a pawn in the game.

Beep... beep... beep...

It was strange but wherever she went, she heard the beeps - sometimes really loud like now and other times very faintly like when she went to a rave with Arya, so liberating to dance madly, not worrying about her steps but instead making them up. Perhaps Jon is right that she is truly mad - that there is no such other world and it explained her hearing those steady beeps.

But then she shook her head and giggled with delight as she got Jon to finally take a Saturday afternoon off for a picnic in Central Park with Arya and hopefully Melisandre. She loved Central Park! Somehow without anyone noticing, she climbed a tree in her delightful romper that she made with Arya's gleeful help from the brocade drapes in the living room. She stopped and looked down at the three - each looking in a different direction, in their own thoughts, seemingly so isolated from the other, but she saw the faintest lines connecting them. She smiled - all would be well.

She decided to climb higher and higher. The beeping got louder and more frantic and she heard cries asking her to come back home. Somehow she knew that she had to continue to climb - she did not want to go back to Andalasia. No!

When Jon saw her smile, he was so ecstatic thinking that she would come back to him. He immediately kissed her, and the heart monitor began to beep erratically and flashing red as her heartbeats became more and more erratic. He held onto Arya as the doctors and the nurses rushed in and fought to save her. Both cried and begged her to come home. A nurse gently moved to lead them out but as the doctor shocked her, Sansa's blue eyes opened, and she gasped.

Her eyes frantically looked around, and she shrank away from the doctor and nurses, shaking as if they were aliens or monsters.

Jon and Arya rushed to her, and she looked like she recognized them.

"I was climbing a tree... Where are we?" she hysterically asked, holding Jon's arm with both of her hands and trying to hide behind his body.

"Love, there is no tree. You slept and did not wake up. You were in a coma for three months," he reassuringly replied.

She hysterically cried, "What about Melisandre? I am not your love - you are not mine."

Arya glared at him, thinking that he betrayed her big sister.

But Melisandre was just a brief moment of weakness when he was so down as Sansa was not ready for commitment at that time. But they were able to work through their issues (with his being too possessive), and Sansa finally agreed to marry him. Jon never told Sansa - he did not think that she knew. No one did. He tried to excuse it by saying that he was not himself but even to him, the excuse rung hollow.

To hear her say Melisandre's name aloud shocked him! He protested, "Melisandre meant nothing to me!"

It made everything worse with Arya's eyes now brimming with hate - his words damning him as it was clear that there was a Melisandre in his life. And Sansa's eyes and face showed her disgust in him, disgust he knew that he deserved.

The tall blond nurse led Jon and Arya away so that they could do a full check on Sansa, checking her vitals. Arya stormed away, muttering that men were all stupid.

It took a long time, and another doctor was called who spent some time with her. Finally when her lead doctor and the new doctor met with them, they imparted the news that Sansa thought she was a princess of Andalasia, and that she did not know that her home was in Winterfell and that she wanted to go back to Central Park in Manhattan. She got hysterical and had to be sedated. While she appeared fine physically, they wanted to keep her for observation.

At first, Arya snickered about the princess comment, muttering under her breath that that was Sansa all right. But then she heard that Sansa not knowing Winterfell, she was shocked, almost as shocked as Jon. He demanded to take her home immediately but her doctors - Doctors Stannis and Davos, the former being her main physician in charge of her care and the latter being her psychiatrist, firmly denied his request. They wanted to make sure that her dementia was harmless to her and to others.

When Jon visited Sansa alone, Sansa acted like she did not truly know him, squinting her eyes and saying that he was not the Jon she knew. He recounted how they met, about her family, about their marriage. Each story was met with a bewildered stare until at last, she could not take it anymore. She started screaming at the Evil Queen, Cersei, to release her from this Hell and promising that she would never marry any of her sons - she did not want to a queen or even a princess. She cried softly that she did not want to marry anyone - she wanted to be her own person, wanted to be free, wanted to climb a tree, wanted to go to a rave, wanted to kiss stupid boys or even girls...

As she cried, Jon realized that she never truly wanted to marry him but that he wore her down until she relented. He was controlling her, just like the jerks she used to date, just like how her family trapped her with their expectations of her being the perfect daughter. Her mother and her friends (with only Jeyne looking concerned at her alarm at the spiraling costs and over the top plans) wanted to plan the perfect wedding for her, no expenses spared, while she always looked overwhelmed especially immediately before her collapse. Right before that day, she told him that sometimes she felt like she could not breathe and he remembered with regret scoffing at her comments, believing that they were typical excitement and anxiety over their upcoming wedding.

Jon loved her so much but he knew that he would have to let her go, have to convince everyone to let her live the life she wanted to live. He hoped that they would be together.

Years later, she was a beautiful blushing bride in a simple sheath and a lovely long veil in a rustic cabin. Her cheeks were rosy and her mouth widened in a dazzling smile. Beside her was her true knight, Brienne, her former nurse whose bright blue eyes shone with such love. Instead of vows, they sung to each other with each singing verses of "That's How You Know", a song from her favorite movie "Enchanted." They changed the verses to describe the things the other does that made them know that it was true love. There were many oohs and ahhs as they were both such sweet romantics.

It was not what Jon wished for long ago, but she was truly happy. It was better this way he told himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried but I do not think I truly grasp the remix concept here - I lose both what I love in the work that inspired me and what I like about the JonxSansa pairing. Everything seems contrived and not true.
> 
> I always tell myself to try new things and try your best. And if it does not work, then that is all you can do (shrugs). You move on (no mas).
> 
> I was more successful with these other attempts with different pairings or triplings. They seem more unforced.
> 
> <http://archiveofourown.org/works/6288292/chapters/15653452>
> 
> <http://archiveofourown.org/works/7112899/chapters/17174278>
> 
> <http://archiveofourown.org/works/7112899/chapters/17084663>
> 
> <http://archiveofourown.org/works/7112899/chapters/16322726>
> 
> <http://archiveofourown.org/works/7112899/chapters/17196751>


End file.
